Mike looked a question.
“It might be something very deep, biologically, say a retrovirus that somehow cross-wires some aspect of human nature.” She shivered. “The missing body belongs to Ken Shanks, the chief biologist and genetic engineer. Everyone else is accounted for.”
He shrugged. “If that video is any clue, he probably killed himself, too. Scavengers would have dispersed the remains. Shanks… the name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“It should. His parents knew your sister; they were on the advance team that came to Griffith eleven years before the colonists. They brought him along, and he was already a prodigy—doing graduate-level work in his teens. He’s got to be the key—among all the colonists, he had the best background to protect himself from a retrovirus.”
“Or make one?”
Nadine shuddered. “Maybe, but what an awful thing to make! And there’s no trace of it. Except, maybe, in me. I’ll know tomorrow—they’re going through my blood scan in the Cochran. Time for me to go to sleep, now,” she said abruptly.
“Just remember that what’s happening isn’t you. Your duty is to fight it and keep going—until we can fix it.”
“Sure.”
Ian looked worried. “Thanks for coming, Mike,” It was late evening, more sweltering than usual—the rain was still steaming from hot tarmac and black volcanic rocks. Ian had his coveralls open to his navel and was sweating freely. That was the compromise most of the ground party had made between heat and security.
“No sign of Shanks?” Mike asked.
“That’s why I called you. Sometimes I get the feeling that we’re all being bloody well watched.”
Mike grinned. “Me, too, occasionally. Watched by the ship in orbit. By our surveillance robots. By all the cameras we’ve scattered around.”
Harrison looked up at the sky with mock resignation and back down again. “Quite. Well, what I’m feeling goes a bit beyond all that, I’m afraid… About this time yesterday afternoon, after we finished getting the bodies stacked in the freezer, I went outside—just to breathe fresh air before turning in. You know those trees east of Boot Hill? I could have sworn I saw eyes in the bushes, looking at me. I blinked and it was gone. When I’ve been near the woods I’ve heard twigs crunch. Nothing big enough to crunch twigs left on this island but people, is there?”
Mike nodded. “What do the cameras show?”
“Cameras and overheads can’t bloody see through trees, can they?”
“Someone taking a leak?”
“Skulking in the woods, with the bugs, the mud, and without their comm badge?” Ian gave him a wry grin. “Damn sight more trouble than using the loo would have been.”
“Then?”
Ian shrugged. “We could sidle up to the edge of the wood like we’re looking for something in the clearing, cameras on us, and if he shows again…”
Mike nodded. Once seen and identified, their surveillance system should be able to track whatever Harrison had seen, even if neither of them were able to catch up. “OK. I’ll give it an hour.”
Ian nodded, motioned toward the muddy clearing. “At least it’s stopped raining…”
Epsilon Eridani had finally set behind the central mountain, leaving the sky a still brilliant blue, but the ground deep in shadow. They made a show of getting out their flashlights and scanning the ground while taking quick and furtive looks into the even darker wood.
Mud stuck to their boots. They were nearly overwhelmed by the stink of the ubiquitous rain-soaked Wendy flowers. Mike didn’t expect to see anything in the mud—so it took him a couple of seconds to realize it when his flashlight outlined a bare footprint.
“Chaos!” he finally choked out. “Ian!”
Ian came over and looked at the patch of ground illuminated by Mike’s flash. A complete human footprint, and parts of several others, were preserved in the mud by the base of a tree.
“Who the hell would be going barefoot?” Mike’s tone was casual, but inside he felt something cold and hard forming in his stomach. So it was Shanks, after all. “He’s not wearing shoes and not carrying anything else radar could see through the trees, so he doesn’t show.”
“Well, his bones,” Ian said, his manner matching Mike’s outward calm, and the tension in his voice matching Mike’s inner anxiety. “But among the tree limbs, they wouldn’t register.” Ian looked to where the footprints vanished into the forest. “I’m no tracker…”
Mike nodded. “Me neither. I’ll have Yeager send a couple of surveillance motiles.” Human pattern recognition was better, but the ship would miss less detail. He brushed some orchids out of the way to give his helmet cam a better look. But before he could link to the net, it linked to him.
“Mike, Kay Singh,” the voice said. She was tense, fighting for control. “Alonsis Mutera and Todd Silvany have just killed each other. With knives. The Yeager got it on the surveillance camera, but we didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. They looked like they were playing, having fun. Then all their blood and… insides… started coming out and we sent a surveillance robot down to trank them—but it was too late.”
“How many people have seen that?”
“Only myself and the duty crew, so far.”
It was Mills’s shift, which meant Roger and Ann as well. Mike felt a sudden hard sting on his wrist. He swatted and pulled a large crushed, wormy thing from his sleeve. “Find Jensen, Kay. Ian’s here and I’ll tell Nadine. No rumors, OK? And if anyone else starts feeling these, these urges, they need to see Nadine immediately.”
“Copy. Kay out.”
Mike turned to Ian. “Mutera and Silvany just killed each other before anyone could do anything.”
Ian looked down and up again. “Nadine will need the bodies, Mike. I’ll tend to it.” Then Ian looked at Mike’s hand—he was still holding the caterpillar. “What’s that?”
“Damn thing bit me…” Mike said. “Yeager, any record of Mutera or Silvany complaining of insect bites? Caterpillar bites, specifically.”
“Everyone on the planet,” the Yeager reported, “but you, reports at least one bite, usually in connection with picking Wendy flowers.”
“A caterpillar?” Ian stared at the oozing corpse. “Not supposed to be making a meal out of us, is it?”
Mike shook his head. “You’re right, Ian. The insects matched their base templates, and engineered insects weren’t supposed to bite people.” Then again, colonies aren’t supposed to disappear either.
“It might be a mutation, or a freak.”
“Yeah, fourteen years and no corrections. Artificial ecologies need a lot of monitoring before they get all the bugs out.” Mike grimaced at his unintended pun.
Ian raised an eyebrow, “So ‘as built’ doesn’t match the plan. Wouldn’t be the first time in engineering, would it? Or do you think it might be deliberate?”
“Sabotage? Back that far?” The pain of the bite faded and he shivered again. Was the bite toxic itself, or just a vector for a retrovirus? “Yeager? Mark me down as bitten. The thing that just bit me looked something like a caterpillar, at least it did before I smashed it.”
“I’ll send a robot over for it,” the ship told him.
“Warn everyone to keep hands and wrists covered, and keep their hands off flowers.” Mike turned to Ian. “If the footprint belongs to Ken Shanks, I think we need to find him. Soon.”